A moved playhouse

Moving house made easy

I’ve yet to get over the eight month saga that was moving into our current home – it’s been nearly 30 months and it still haunts me.

If I had my way I’d never move again, but if I do, I think I have an idea how to make it substantially easier!

Just pick the damn thing up and move it, instead of just your stuff.

Does make you think a caravan might be an easier way of life…

Anyway, as part of the ongoing project to get the garden sorted, I needed to get the kids’ playhouse (or ‘treehouse’ as they call it,  despite the seemingly obvious lack of a tree) shifted.

Admittedly, some of the annoyance was self inflicted – it’s a handy place to hide store their crap toys that needed to be moved, and when I built the mud kitchen out of salvaged pallets for them, I didn’t factor in portability.

Dramatic playhouseLuckily The Girl was on hand to ‘help me’ empty the playhouse and move stuff out.

I then had the pleasure of moving it all again as she’d put it directly in the way of where we needed to go.

That done, I could finish detaching the mud kitchen, slide and steps, and I was ready to rock and roll.

My initial plan was to use two six foot poles (they were one 12 foot pole, now halved ready for a future project…) underneath as support and something to hold onto. I was imagining one of those chairs pharaohs got carried about in, only with less pyramids and schistosomiasis , and more swearing.

My plans were foiled by the inability to get them to sit nicely (they’re round, so like to roll) before picking them up. Wedging them in the braces (of the playhouse frame – I don’t own any of the ‘rock on Tommy’ type!) seemed to solve that, but required gibbon-like arm length to hold both at once.

So, not for the first time, the carefully planned and considered solution was unceremoniously binned and I decided to just wing it with brute force.

Between two of us we got it off the ground, but my weightlifting accomplice  only managed a couple of steps before needing to stop to “readjust their grip” (aka, recover).

Newly positioned playhouseIt doesn’t take a genius to realise that moving six inches at a time would take a while to get it the twenty plus feet to its new home. It would almost be quicker to take it apart and rebuild it.

Clearly, I couldn’t be arsed to do that, so once we were ready to go again I decided to try to take as much weight as I could and just charge along hoping she still had hold of her bit.

Amazingly, this worked, and nothing got broken – not even me!

So it’s now in place, the crap toys are tidied away and I’ve removed all the random Spanish Bluebells that were growing in the grass underneath where it used to live. This has left a delightful dug up patch of earth in what I think is meant to be lawn (from my not-yet-finalised plan for the garden), so need to work out what I’m goingT to do there.

I’ve re-potted a load of seedlings that should be ready for planting once I’m sure it’s warm enough – and when I’ve got beds ready for them to be potted into, which means checking the compost heap is rotting down enough, and if not giving it another good turn.

I’ve now also got to work out what to do next as there’s a great temptation to rip up the concrete path, but no firm plans for how to replace it.

Oh, and there’s still a pile of slate chips from the beds I’ve cleared that I need to find a home for.

And I need to work out a way of lifting the actual house to make any future moving easier!

Best get cracking then.

I’ll be in the garden.




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